The Hawk and His Prey
by Imagine88
Summary: "Agent Barton was sent to kill me, he made a different call." S.H.I.E.L.D. sends their own Clint Baron (Hawkeye) to assassinate the infamous Black Widow. But what will happen when Barton realises he's not the only one after her, and that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know everything about her past. (Black Widow x Hawkeye/Clintasha/Blackhawk.)
1. Chapter 1: The Widening Gyre

He had found her at a party in the capital city of Slovenia.

The notorious Black Widow.

His target.

He was sitting on a leather sofa, one of three lined along the back wall of the chamber. Watching the crowd in masses around him. Watching them eat, and talk, and laugh. Watching intensely for her.

He swung one leg over the other, and draped an arm over the back of the seat.

He was wearing a suit for the first time in years.

A waiter came round and offered him a glass of champagne. _I guess it's one of those kind of parties_, he thought to himself. But said no to the drink.

There was a long mahogany table running down the center of the hall. Completely covered with any combination of food you can imagine. Hell, there were even diamond chandeliers overhead!

Director Fury had assigned him the mission last night. At some inhuman time as usual. And if he was feeling particularly paranoid, he would say that Fury got some kind of unspoken joy out of it too.

He wouldn't be back until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.

"Excuse me," he said to the waiter who had hardly left. "On second thoughts, I think I'll have that glass of champagne."

It wasn't long before he spotted her. The distinctive red hair was the thing he was looking out for. And there she was on the other side of the room, sitting at the table, and talking to someone.

He leaned forward to get a closer look.

She was wearing a knee length red dress with a generous amount of cleavage. And some sort of jewellery around her neck.

He was surprised for a moment at how attractive she was. But then reminded himself that she was a trained killer and had been paid to assassinate the host of this party.

He kept his eyes fixed on her until she finally left her present company, and stated to walk in the direction of the exit.

"Show time," he said to himself, getting up from the sofa. He put the half empty glass of champagne on the table when he got there, making sure not to lose sight of her.

She seemed to be heading outside, so Agent Barton quickly followed.

"I've got him." she said into her phone.

He could just about overhear this from the corridor. They were both leaning against different sides of the same wall.

"Yes," she said irritably into her phone.

He slid his gun out from the strap at his waist.

"No complications."

And he held his breath and made his move.

He caught her by surprise and knocked her to her feet, and before she could think he hit her again.

When Black Widow awoke she found herself tied to a chair. Her arms bound behind her back, and her legs tied right in front of her.

She looked around, although she still felt light-headed. She seemed to be in some kind of abandoned warehouse.

_No complications_, she reminded herself.

"What's your name?" Clint Barton asked, slowly making his way out of the shadows.

"The people who hired you must have told you already." she answered, raising her eyebrows. Bent on examining her captor.

He examined her too. And realised how much he was drawn to her pouty red lips and elegant figure. _God she's attractive_, he thought to himself.

"Nadia Resnik isn't your real name." he stated, twirling a gun by his side. But all she did was smile at him and stare. The atmosphere in the room was completely relaxed. Something that only spies could feel at either end of an interrogation.

"Alright then, we'll just go with Kim Possible for now. Look you've got the hair and everything."

And they both smiled at that.

"This may be the ultimate age old question, but who are you working for?" she asked him curiously.

"S.H.I.E.L.D." he replied.

She then shook her head and sighed like she should have known.

"And what does a mildly secret organisation run by a pirate want with me?"

He snorted for a moment.

"You've got a lot of blood on your hands, Miss Resnik." he told her, his heavy footsteps echoing round the chair.

"I do what I can to survive." she informed him with an innocent shrug.

"Too much blood for just survival."

"Well clearly you haven't been to Russia. Can you at least stop walking in circles, you're making me dizzy."

Was it strange that he found her assertive manner even more appealing?

"They want you gone."

"And by gone you mean-"

"Eliminated."

"I heard that they've been keeping an eye on me." she said to him.

He stopped walking suddenly, and shifted closer to her chair.

"From who?"

"Friends."

"You don't have any friends according to our records."

"Enemies at a disadvantage then." she admitted with a playful smirk.

"I've heard you have quite a few of those."

Even when he turned his back to her he could feel her glare. And then he started walking again.

"I don't suppose I can buy you off with a night of impulsive sex, Agent? You don't really look like the type to accept."

"The type?" he asked, amused.

"Well you've got a particular one. You know, outrageously handsome, but with an appealing dark side. Too much of a martyr to deny his orders. Too much of a humanitarian to act on blind faith."

He smirked.

"Well that's very specific." he added.

"I read people. That's my job."

"You're an assassin."

"Is that what S.H.I.E.L.D. are calling me now?"

"Well that's how you got on their radar in the first place."

"You must have plenty banging down your door already, without needing me to entertain you." she said, mischievously.

"Plenty of what?" he asked her, confused.

"Women." she stated.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" he asked her, almost enjoying this little game.

"Take it anyway you like." she added with a flirtatious giggle, leaning back further into the chair.

_Wait a second, this is a mission,_ he reminded himself.

"I'm here to kill you, Miss Resnik." he affirmed.

"Right." she smiled with a nod.

Very subtly she rubbed her elbow against the side of her dress.

"Uh, uh, uh." He shook a finger at her and grinned.

"You took my pen knife from my underwear while I was unconscious?" she asked him, surprised.

"I'm very thorough." he told her moving closer.

_Mission, Barton, think! _But he didn't know at this point if he could-

"Clearly. You're not reconsidering my offer I hope?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

He pointed his gun at her.

"Well go ahead then, soldier. Don't be shy." she coaxed him, still completely calm.

"I heard that the infamous Black Widow never surrenders."

"Well you heard right." she told him

And he was confused for a moment.

She titled her head slightly.

_What is she-_

But by the time he had caught on it was too late.

She kicked him hard in the shins, sending him backwards, then knocked him to the floor with a blow to the head. By the time he had recovered, she was already standing above him smiling, with his gun in her right hand, and his S.H.I.E.L.D. ID card in her left.

"You know I'm really starting to like you, Agent Barton." she stated with genuine interest. Staring down at him from an advantage point this time.

He glanced over at the grated rope lying in the middle of the floor. She had cut through it with her high heels, and Agent Barton couldn't help but feel a little proud of her creativity.

_Well she isn't called a master assassin for nothing_, he thought to himself.

"Well gee, thanks." he replied, and then reached inside his pocket as innocently as he could. But it was empty.

"Uh, uh, uh." she said teasingly, pouting her lips in a very provocative manner.

"You took my pocket knife?" he asked, more intrigued with this woman than surprised.

"While you were doing your circling eagle impression, and got too close to your prey," she explained, giving him these suggestive little looks.

She glanced at the ID card again.

"Or should I say hawk?" she asked him.

"I'm very thorough, Agent Barton," she added.

"Clearly," he said, studying her, just about as hard as she was studying him.

She smiled with a touche kind of feel to it. And with the same expression aimed the gun at him.

"I'm unarmed," he said, surprised at her sudden movement. Or maybe he was surprised at just how relaxedly she had made it. He raised his hands like it was all a joke. And maybe he felt _just a little-_ _Shut up!_ he thought to himself.

"Yeah but you screwed up my evening," she said to him saucily.

"And I'm _really_ sorry about that," he told her with a lopsided smile. "Natalia."

That really caught her off guard. And that's all he needed.

He kicked the gun out of her hands in one fluid movement, catching it himself, and having the advantage once more.

He picked himself up slowly, the gun persistently pointed.

She raised her hands, looking truly vulnerable for the first time in this encounter.

"That's your name, Natalia Romanova?" he said taking small steps towards her, and slowly forcing her back.

"How did you-"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has its perks," he shrugged.

"And how did S.H.I.E.L.D.," she started, trying to keep up a facade. But found she couldn't finish.

"X didn't clean up their mess as thoroughly as they thought they had. That part of your past, Miss Romanova, isn't on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records. But obviously Fury knew, and I've seen glimpses of those case files. You haven't changed much." he told her.

He could see her composure stiffening, her eyes getting blinded by memories. Almost like she was going to start- _Damn it, Barton!_ he thought to himself.

"The Red Room facility," he uttered, filling up the empty room with echoes. "What were you, fourteen?"

"Thirteen," she said. "But I started training years before then."

And he looked at her.

Really looked at her.

"Is this pity, Agent Barton?" she asked him playfully. Although nothing in her demeanor supported that tone.

He didn't answer.

"Because really, I thought better of you," she sneered.

And he was about to say something.

But there was a snap. And a boom. And suddenly a scream. Then nothing...

* * *

**Authors Note: This is what happens when I spend all day in bed wearing my Marvel pyjamas! Any kind of review would be wonderful. Thanks for reading. (This is only chapter 1.)**


	2. Chapter 2: The Dog on the Wall

And this time it was Barton's turn to wake up imprisoned.

"Well, princess," he heard through the ringing in his ears.

And then someone grabbed him by the chin and forced his head back, whacking it against the wall behind him.

He groaned.

Seeing only darkened colours and blurry shapes through his half opened eyes.

"C'mon!" the voice laughed, slapping him across the cheek.

He gasped, and his environment became more than vivid around him.

He was chained to a wall in the warehouse he had been in earlier. The only reason he had chosen it was because of its emptiness and isolated location.

There wasn't a town for miles.

_Damn it! _he thought to himself.

There were at least three men in the room, maybe four. The pair at the back wall, furthest away from him were heavily armed and blocking the exit. And there was also another door within the room. An entrance to a smallish storeroom about a foot away from him.

"You're awake!" the man in front of him exclaimed. Then threw his arms up in the air and grinned. His teeth were yellowed and some were missing, and that seemed to make him all the more menacing.

Another man then stepped out of the storeroom, and took a second to observe Agent Barton.

"He's awake now, Sir," the grinning man said.

And the other man smiled. With some kind of satisfaction.

"довести шлюху," he ordered one of the armed men at the door, gesturing to the storeroom.

Or at least it sounded like an order to Agent Barton. He didn't speak Russian, but he could just about recognise-

And then he remembered.

_Her._

And the man scuttled off keeping his head low. The one who had ordered him was obviously the leader here.

This man in particular began to take small and thoughtful strides around the room.

Barton turned to the grinning man who was still standing close to him, but had turned to face the storeroom door, just like all the others had.

"What did you do with her?" he asked forcefully.

The grinning man laughed, throwing his head back as the sound filled the building. And then turned to stare at Barton again. Still smiling. Still grinning.

"You," he cackled, approaching the agent. "You are chained to a wall like a dog," he started, his accent strange and unfamiliar. "_Surrounded!_" he gestured, spinning on his heels. "By trained killers that definitely don't mean you no good. And you; you stupid, stupid man bargain for the girl?"

And he roared with the same alarming laughter.

Agent Barton was pretty sure that this was the worst situation he had ever been in. And he'd had his fair share.

"Who are you?"

"_Now_ he asks the right kinda questions!"

"You will understand soon," the grinning man stated simply.

"что бы вы хотели, чтобы я сказал ему следующий?" he asked in Russian to the man they all seemed to revolve around. The tone of his voice implied the question.

"это," the man replied, tossing something to the man in front of Barton.

The grinning man shook his head and made disapproving clicking noises through his teeth at the thing he now had in his hands.

And that's when Barton saw it.

His S.H.I.E.L.D. ID card.

Covered in blood.

"Your name's Barton, eh?" the grinning man asked him. "You work for S.H.I.E.L.D." he stated, a little surprised.

"Well then, Mr Barton. I guess this is just your bad luck, because we don't want you. We only want the girl." And he looked up at Agent Barton again, the deep and permanent scars becoming visible on the grinning man's face.

"But you see," he began, throwing the card aside. "Mysterious disappearances becomes a little more, how we say?_Less _mysterious, with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents around."

"он работает на S.H.I.E.L.D." the grinning man gestured to his superior.

And the other man seemed startled, and almost amused when he was told this. And then continued his strides around the room.

"You shot her, where is she?" Barton asked quickly, breaking the eye contact between these two men.

"You see this, Agent Barton, this I don't understand!" the grinning man cried. "You were clearly sent by your masters to assassinate the so called Black Widow. Which means we have same goals. So why you ask about her, eh? You can take pride, Agent Barton, that your mission will have been completed when you die."

"And why do you-" Baton began, but was interrupted by a shout, and then a scream. The same scream that he had heard when-

And the grinning man laughed, and clapped his hands together, as the soldier who had left emerged from the storeroom.

"And there she is!" the grinning man cried, enthusiastically.

And there was only was one person he could be talking about.

Black Widow was bent over, and strapped to the same chair that Barton had tied her to, clutching her stomach, and gasping.

The soldier who was carrying the chair placed it opposite Barton's wall, in the very centre of the room. Then went back to his post at the door.

A stretch of dark coloured blood layered her red dress round the middle.

"Well now, _Black Widow_," the grinning man said mockingly. "Any confessions to make?"

"This dress was a rip off," she coughed, still keeled over.

_Always the smart ass_, he thought to himself.

"скажи ей, что она принесла это на себя," the grinning man's superior said to him.

"He says that you brought this upon yourself," the grinning man told her.

"I know what he said," she started, despite the obvious pain she felt from speaking. "I'm Russian, remember?"

The grinning man chuckled. "You are a traitor, Miss Romanova," he declared. "And your country has no use for traitors."

"They're KGB," Black Widow said to Barton, who was speechless in the midst of all this going on.

_I'm so screwed_, he thought to himself.

"We prefer Committee for State Security," the grinning man corrected her.

"And I'm a threat?" she said, sceptically.

The grinning man suddenly turned to face Black Widow. He narrowed his wrinkled eyes at her, his face far from grinning anymore, and made his way over to her chair. He shoved her head upwards, jerking her whole body abruptly, and she moaned from the pain.

"You've always been a threat since you were five years old, Natalia," he sneered. "The girl with too many questions. Even after Pretrovich handed you over as a guinea pig to The Red Room."

She struggled against him. Her expression nearly oozing with anger and shame.

"You know," he started. "We knew you'd gone freelance, but messing with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents," he shook his head and laughed. "That's a new low. Even for you."

"That's enough!" Barton shouted.

_Always the humanitarian_, she thought to herself.

Their apparent leader had been treading round the room the whole time, listening intensely to every detail in this interrogation. But the disturbance from Barton had stopped him suddenly, and somehow it felt like all the other men in the room were holding their breath.

"что?" he asked assertively.

"он защищает ее," the grinning man explained.

And his superior started walking again for a second, then added: "скажите ему, что он достойно восхищения."

And Black Widow tried to laugh, but it came out as a kind of a whine instead

"He said that he admires you for defending her," the grinning man told Barton.

"Well tell him I'm touched," Clint replied sarcastically.

"он говорит, что он коснулся," the grinning man repeated to his superior.

And the other man laughed, loud and comically, while shaking his head.

"Well at least he's got a sense of humour," Black Widow groaned, and then started coughing and clutching her stomach again.

"убить его," the leader said.

"нет," Black Widow said with some importance, suddenly sticking her head up. And the leader looked at her quizzically, then smiled.

"What did he say?" Barton asked the injured woman.

"He gave the order to kill you," she stated.

And he felt a lump in his throat.

But then realised he felt quite confident that 'нет' translated to no.

_Why is she fighting for me? _he thought to himself.

"Зачем мне это делать, что?" the leader questioned.

"потому что он глупый дурак, который не имеет никакого вреда никому," Black Widow replied, with a nod towards the agent.

"What are you saying?" Barton asked her.

But before she could answer the grinning man responded: "that you are a stupid fool who is of no harm to anyone."

"Well that's just great," Barton mumbled.

"He works for S.H.I.E.L.D., Sir. There must be some reason they keep him around. I would advise you not to listen to the girl."

His superior nodded, but made his way over to the Widow.

"если он достаточно сделать тебе больно, чем мой разум," he whispered in her ear.

"Сволочь!" she spat.

Barton was sure it was an insult.

"избили его," he gestured to the leftmost man at the door.

"он приехал сюда, чтобы убить меня," Black Widow said forcefully.

"She says that you came here to kill her," the grinning man translated.

"он не имеет ничего общего с этим."

"That you have nothing to do with this."

The soldier then approached Barton, and delivered a hard blow across his now naked chest. Barton winced in pain, and the soldier hit him across the face this time. Then he raised his fist to do it again but-

"он сказал мне что-то," she said loudly.

"остановить!" the leader shouted to the soldier in front of Barton. And gestured stop with his fully opened fist.

"She says that you told her something," the grinning man translated.

"что-то о Red Room, что вы еще не знаете о."

"Something about The Red Room that we don't already know about."

His superior seemed greatly curious about this remark, and it was clearly Black Widow's plan to draw him in. _But what the hell is she doing? _he asked himself.

She gestured at the leader to shift himself closer, and she leaned into his ear and-

And-

And-

Agent Barton didn't know what.

There was a hiss, and almost like a sizzle, and the leader was immeadiately on the ground. And she was standing up. Standing up and aiming punches, and kicking, and ducking to the sound of gunshots. Her left hand pressed against her stomach, and her right hand held up in defence. Her body was tense and she hunched herself up, but the other men, despite every advantage they had, kept falling. Falling to the ground one by one, and then it was suddenly over.

She was panting, and then she moaned loudly and looked at the gunshot wound on her stomach, when all the adreniline had left her. The bleeding had started again, but there was a smile on her face.

"Need some help, Agent Barton?" she asked with a giggle. Completely flirtatious like she had laughed before.

He was completely baffled.

And then he saw the golden metal wire hanging down from her necklace.

"My own creation," she told him in between deep breaths. "Widow's bite. Electro static energy blasts which can deliver charges up to 30,000 volts." She raised her an eyebrow. "All compacted within the necklace."

He exhaled for the first time in an hour. And a little laugh escaped him at how quickly everything had happened.

_Well she isn't called a master assassin for nothing_, he thought to himself again.

She winked at him, and went to reach for a shady looking tool from one of the soldiers' pockets, and just as she bent down, she cried out in pain.

"I can't get up," she whined, trying to act (as usual) as calm as she could possibly be.

But outside in the halls there was thudding, and an echo of metal banging rhythmically.

A series of running footsteps.

"Shit, there's more of them coming!" she shouted.

* * *

**Author's Note: I just want to say how grateful I am about all the support I've received so far! It was honestly a shock for me when I saw the first review, let alone the third! I hope this chapter wasn't disappointing for anyone. I know I've created a lot of unanswered questions, but I promise there will be answers further on! I also hope to do a lot more conversation between Clint and Natasha, since there are many things between them that haven't been said already. And just to establish how they became the two people we saw in Avengers. I'm thinking 4-5 chapters at the moment. Any opinion or suggestion you have will be greatly appreciated. What I don't make up myself I get from the comic books which I'm having a blast researching. Thank you so much to all the people who have favourite/followed this story, and especially to the reviewers:**

**AthenaMay24: Your enthusiasm about the story so far was completely moving, and I hope I didn't disappoint with Chapter 2! *High five for overpriced Marvel merchandise* (You know it's not worth it, but at the same time it totally is!)**

**Lelylith: I can't tell you how much that meant to me, I think I just shut my bedroom door and screamed! Thank you so much!**

**Widow306: Yours was very the first review, which made it very important to me. I'm ecstatic that you have enjoyed this so far, and I hope it continues to interest you!**

**I'll update with chapter 3 as soon as possible! And I promise that no one will get captured for once!**

**Imgaine88 :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Survival of the Fittest

"You need to get up!" he said to her seriously.

"Well that's just inspirational," she retorted.

"They're coming and you need to-" he started, almost shouting now.

"It's not like I'm crouching on the floor for kicks!" she replied, shaking her head with a duh kind of feel to it.

"Natalia-"

"Yeah not the best way to start the motivation."

"You need to move!" he shouted.

"Fine," she scoffed, and pressed her hands against the ground, trying to lift herself up. But moaned at any movement at all.

"Slowly," he told her, gentler this time.

She took two short breaths, closed her eyes, and pressed. She pushed herself up in one rapid movement, leaning on the soldier who was either dead or unconscious. She gasped, and tensed her whole body once standing, and let out a series of loud whines.

"Well done," he said to her sincerely, as she hobbled her way over with the shady looking crowbar thing.

"Just call me batman," she said with a smirk, while attempting to free him by twisting different parts of the locks on his chains.

"How are you going to walk with that?" he gestured to her injury. "Let alone fight with it."

"I was kinda hoping you would carry me bridal style," she chuckled.

He smiled at that too.

"Well one thing you must know about me by now, Agent Barton. Is that I'm a brave girl. And I don't go down without one hell of a fight."

The locks suddenly clicked loose, and Barton brushed the chain off his shoulders.

He grabbed his shirt from the floor where the soldiers had thrown it, and put it on again.

"Well let's go get them then," he said.

She hooked an arm around his the back of his neck, and they made their way over to the door to check for soldiers.

She positioned herself behind him, and he craned his head around the doorway.

"See anything?" she asked him in a whisper.

"No," he told her. "And I can't hear them anymore either."

"We gonna chance it?"

"I don't see what else there is to do," he said to her, apprehensively.

He gave the hallway one more look, and then pushed her along beside him.

And they made their way, stumbling quickly, down through the darkened passage.

"How far is the entrance?" she asked him, finding it slightly hard to keep her composure as their stealthy pace made her wound throb angrily.

He sighed heavily, always making sure to look around as they shuffled through the building. "Far," he added. "We're on the third floor."

_Eyes like a hawk_, she thought to herself amusedly.

"I'm flattered, Agent Barton."

"About what?" he asked, confused.

"You felt that it was necessary to take me all the way up to the top floor, just to keep me from kicking your ass and escaping," she explained, raising an eyebrow.

He snorted. "Yes, you're-"

There was a muffled sound of mumbling and the ringing of footsteps nearby.

"Damn it!" he said, looking around the place desperately.

But there was nowhere to hide.

"Okay," he breathed, suddenly taking her into his arms. She yelped at the unexpected movement.

And then he went on, but in the direction they had come from, hoping and hoping that they might have missed some door or something.

"You know, when I said bridal style, I didn't think you'd actually do it," she told him with a laugh, while she shook in his arms as his legs got faster.

"You're not the slightest bit worried?" he asked her curiously, almost feeling his own arms shake, with adrenaline and fear underneath her.

"Not necessarily. I'm a good actress," she explained.

"There!" he said suddenly, racing over to a narrow little staircase which seemed to lead up to a balcony overhead.

He climbed the stairs, incredibly wary of anything coming behind him.

He saw that it was nearly demolished when they got to the top. Half the bannisters at the edge were missing, and the wooden boards creaked alarmingly underfoot. Falling through the floor was about the last thing they needed right now.

There were crates in the corner, containing hell knows what, but at least they'd be safer than being out in the open.

He laid her down gently, but noticed that her breathing had quickened, and that even in the blackness, he could see her skin had gone paler.

"You okay?" he whispered as quietly as he could.

"Tough girl, remember?" she told him; even though sweat was dripping down her face, and the bleeding round her middle had gotten worse.

She tried to straighten herself up, to lean closer to the wall, but hurt herself more in the process and couldn't suppress the moans.

Barton nodded at her sympathetically, and placed a hand carefully over her mouth because all of a sudden he could hear the echo of soldiers again beneath them.

"есть пошел," he heard, and really hoped that she could hear it to, because no doubt the translation would be helpful to them.

"как?" he heard, like someone in a temper.

"они все мертвы, и заключенные как-то сбежал."

"блин!" someone shouted. "вне сейчас."

And then a sigh, and then the footsteps moved away.

Both Clint and the Black Widow waited some moments, before the silence was so deafening that they had to be gone.

He took his hand away from her mouth, and asked: "you get any of that?"

"The general jist," she told him, slumping back, and breathing heavily.

He pulled himself up to a standing position.

"What did they say?"

"That those guys I beat the crap out of are dead, that we've escaped and-"

She coughed.

"That they're all meeting outside."

Barton nodded, and offered her his hand.

"What's our next move?" she asked him, struggling to get up.

"We get the hell out," he stated.

"Right, genius. But how?"

He looked around.

"Does that corner over there seem infinitely brighter than the rest of this place to you?" he asked, pointing to the other end of the balcony.

She glanced at him, confused.

He walked over to it, and pulled back a yellowed sheet of paper sticking to the wall.

"A window," he said to her, gesturing.

She joined him.

"So that's how much scumbags we're dealing with," she stated, looking out at about twenty men on the doorstep.

"I sure like those odds," Barton said.

"Definitely," she agreed.

"Well since they're all outside, there's nothing stopping us from bringing the fight to them. You got any weapons left, other than your necklace?" he said jokingly.

"Well I would have, if you hadn't taken it from my underwear," she smirked.

"I've got a couple things outside."

"Hold on a second," she started, shaking her hands in front of him. "You felt that it was necessary to take me all the way up to the top floor, give me a full body pat down, _and_ hide just-in-case-she-kicks-my-ass-and-escapes weapons outside?"

He smirked.

"Low self esteem much?"

"Maybe I just overestimated you," he said playfully.

"Oh I highly doubt that," she retorted.

"What do you think they're all doing outside anyway?" he asked her, seriously.

"Probably calling for backup. These guys may be powerful, but they're easily intimidated."

"Is that another one of your 'I read people' strategies then?"

"Careful, Barton," she said pouting her lips and raising her eyebrows. "You don't want to get on my bad side."

And even then she was irresistible.

They headed towards the exit, the Widow still supporting herself on Barton.

"What kind of weapons?" she asked him.

"Bow and arrow," he replied.

"What are we, in Middle Earth?"

"Hawk. Eye. The name kind of implies."

He laughed.

"Relax, I've got your precious underwear knife out there too," he said with a smile. "And I've also got a gun."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. model?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be better off with a stick to defend myself."

They came to a corner where they could just about see some traces of moonlight streaming through the open door. And they could hear the soldiers talking, and lighting cigarettes together.

"Where did you put them exactly," she asked him.

"Around the back, behind some bushes."

"Great," she said sarcastically. "Someone's gotta be bait. And since I'm not going to get very far with the whole I'm an archer thing, I'll distract them."

"What? No. You're the one who's injured."

"Awww, you really care that much about me? S.H.I.E.L.D. really needs to work on making its agents just a teeny bit tougher."

"Fine. You go. But it's a stupid plan."

"_Relax_," she said, over emphasising it. I'll run around in circles until you find your Robin Hood toys. Then you go all macho on them. Or as macho as a guy can be doing a Katniss Everdeen impression."

She raised her eyebrows at him, and he looked down at the bleeding from her wound.

"Plan?"

"I think that we should-"

"Show time!"

And just like that she was gone.

"суки!" she shouted, strutting right down the middle of the doorway. Holding herself upright as best she could. Catching them completely by surprise.

And as always, that's exactly what the Black Widow wants.

Barton stared at her for a few moments, just in surprise, as she beat the living daylights out of these 'trained killers', despite her wound, which he she was managing unbelievably well.

He found that not many people could surprise him. And she had done it twice now.

_Not bad_, he thought to himself. _Not bad at all_.

And then of course he remembered what he was actually supposed to be doing.

He slithered from the corridor, past the front door, to the walls along the outside of the building, watching her fighting them from the corner of his eye.

It was harder to see because it was darker now, but he soon made out the hiding spot, and bent over in the blackness to collect up all the weapons.

He slid Black Widow's knife into the pocket where his had been, and attached the gun to the strap at his waist. Then took his beloved bow into his arms.

Black Widow had knocked down ten of the soldiers at least by this point, but they were past the initial surprise by now, and had gathered up guns and other weapons from their trucks.

But the Widow still fought on, the world getting a little dizzier and less clear every time she got hit. The wound on her stomach oozing a little more red.

And she didn't know how much longer she could-

"Need some help, Miss Romanova?" a familiar voice asked, his form just a shadow atop one of the soldiers' trucks.

"Don't get cocky, Barton," she called to him, but she suddenly felt so much more... She didn't know what.

All joking aside, Black Widow had never seen a better archer in her entire life.

His arrows rained down on the remaining soldiers until all there was left but two.

She smiled up at him for a moment, as he leaped down from the vehicle and-

_Thud._

And she was on the ground-

And she couldn't move-

And they were coming for her-

And-

Clint ran over to the Widow as she collapsed onto the ground, and fired two last arrows to finish off the soldiers.

He knelt down by her side, and she was still breathing.

_And what do I do?_

_And what do I do?_

He scooped her up into his arms and placed her in the truck.

And the only thing he could think about was her.

* * *

**Author's Note: I promise, guys, chapter 4 will be the holy grail of answers! If anyone has any suggestions or opinions about the story so far, or anything you feel I should include, I would love to hear them. Thank you so much to all the people who have favourited/followed this story so far, and a very special thank you to all of the reviewers:**

**Widow306: I'm really glad you're still enjoying it, it's been such a pleasure to write, and to hear opinions from all you guys, and I'll update A.S.A.P.!**

**AthenaMay24: That is really uplifting to hear, thank you! I was kind of unsure about chapter two because I was stepping out of the existing Marvel universe a bit, and doing my own thing. Natasha is such a badass, and I think its pretty much a crime not to put your all into her as a character, so it's really nice to hear that you think I'm doing her justice.**

**Marvel-comic-girl: Thank you so much! Hopefully updating will never take too long.**

**Lelylith: I'm so glad you liked it! As I said above I was kind of unsure about chapter 2, so the positive feedback is incredibly inspiring.**

**FunkyBubble14: That's the fun for me really, getting to decide why Clint and Natasha are the way they are. It's like getting to write the equation for their characters in Avengers. I'm really glad that you like it so far, and I hope I don't disappoint!**

**Liz: So sorry I didn't add you to this list in the first place. I think you sent your review in just as I published chapter 3! But thank you for your lovely comments, and I hope the story continues to be to your liking!**

**See you soon for chapter 4! (Spoiler: it's the let's share our pasts chapter!)**

**Imagine88 :)**


	4. Chapter 4: The Lucky Ones

_** "If this was your last... birthday party, you were ever going to have, how would you celebrate?"**_

"_**I would do whatever I wanted to do...**_

_** With whoever I wanted to do it with."**_

** (Tony and Natasha: Iron Man 2)**

* * *

It took several hours to reach the bunker that Barton had been due to stay in; a mostly metal building that contrasted with the bulk of its surroundings. Which happened to be a woods.

She was lying in the back seat of the KGB vehicle, but hadn't budged for the whole of the drive.

And Barton kept wondering if maybe she was- _Shut up!_ he thought to himself. But those thoughts didn't stop for the remainder of the trip.

He found himself unable to keep still, and unable to concentrate. The road ahead of him a faceless course, guided only by the brief instructions that Fury had provided.

By the end of the drive Barton had almost convinced himself that his nervousness was because he was wary of the soldiers coming after them.

He pressed his foot against the brake, and turned the headlights off. Just before taking a loud and echoey step onto the ground.

He shut the front door with a clang. And made his way round to the back of the truck, only to take the Widow's senseless body, gently into his arms.

Once inside, he laid her down on the sofa in the middle of the main room.

And locked the door, his hand shaking.

He turned on all the lights, and headed to the bathroom, gathering up a cloth and whatever else he could find to help her.

And he was searching through a cupboard when he heard...

He stopped.

_Moaning._

He immediately dropped the washcloth he was holding, and leaped up, making his way into the main room again.

As he moved closer to the sofa, a sound of coughing also became apparent. And he couldn't help but feel a wave of relief come over him.

And perhaps that was the thing that frightened him the most in all of this.

He walked over to the sofa.

"Where are we?" she asked him, through weighty breaths.

He stared at how defeated she looked. But then quickly realised she was expecting an answer.

"A safe house," he told her, and knelt down by her side.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s?" she questioned, shutting her eyes completely for a moment.

He leaned over her, and pressed his hand against her forehead.

"What are you-"

"Checking your temperature," he said simply. "You looked pretty pale back at the warehouse."

"Yeah well I'm-"

"You're only human, Natalia," he told her firmly. "Or whatever you want me to call you."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"And not invincible."

He pulled his hand away, and noticed that she looked confused, or almost alarmed. But maybe that was just her fever.

She shook her head.

"Why are you doing this?"

And he could see that she was serious.

"Because you got shot."

"You were sent to shoot me."

"It's more complicated now," he said, not completely sure why it was.

"You have a job. And you do it. What's complicated about that?" she asked him.

"That's the mind set that keeps getting you into trouble," he explained.

But she just stared at him funnily, with her forehead creased, and her eyebrows furrowed.

"Besides," he started. "You could've left me tied up in there."

"You could've let them keep talking."

He smiled at her never-ending sense of determination.

"I don't like being indebted to people," she stated.

"Well unlucky for you then, our score's now two to one," he smirked.

And then left the room to get the things he had abandoned in the bathroom.

She found herself smiling in a fond way as soon as he had gone.

"Here," he said, placing a blanket down on top of her.

"I thought I had a fever."

"You do, but I need to take a look at your wound."

And then she remembered that she was wearing a dress.

"Such a gentleman," she teased, lifting up her dress from under the blanket.

He knelt down again, and gasped when he saw her stomach.

"What?" she questioned.

"How _the hell _did you fight with that, let alone move?" he asked her, completely astounded.

"I don't bleed out past a certain extent, and it's impossible for any wound I have to get infected," she stated simply, wincing a little, but not from the pain.

He nodded, almost feeling guilty that he'd opened that can of worms again.

"The Red Room," he said quietly.

"Yep," she uttered, not making eye contact.

And there was a pause between them.

"What happened?" he asked, not sure that he should be.

She sighed.

And shook her head.

Everything else in the room getting a little bit shakier.

"My parents were dead as long as I can remember. The man who raised me." She swallowed.

And Barton knew that those memories were flooding back.

"Ivan Pretrovich, he worked for the Soviet Union."

He realised that he was staring at her, and decided that it would be better to clean her wound instead, knowing that this woman's greatest fear was seeming vulnerable.

"He heard about a project." She nodded, looking anywhere but at him. "Just an idea at first. Something that seemed like an..." She stopped.

And gritted her teeth for a moment, smiling sarcastically. "An _interesting _experiment," she sneered.

And suddenly it seemed like her eyes were getting-

"You don't have to," he interjected awkwardly.

She looked at him.

"I mean, if you don't want to," he said to her uncomfortably.

"If you think I'm going to start crying in front of you, Barton, you really need to get a reality check," she told him, flippantly.

_This is the first time she's told anyone_, he realised.

She then continued.

"A smaller branch of the U.S.S.R., Department X, carried out the experiment on female orphans. Anywhere between the ages of five to sixteen."

She stopped for a moment, breathing inwards.

"You've heard what happened next from S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm sure."

He nodded. "Subjects were biotechnologically and psycho-technologically enhanced, trained in combat and espionage, to one day honour their country," he recited from the statement he had seen.

"Or X's idea of honouring."

"It doesn't seem so bad on paper," she added in response.

"The youngest there was five years old. She was sitting right beside me when it happened. The room went pitch black within a matter of minutes, and they gave us something to help us 'sleep'. It's hard to know what happened. I remember wires, and tubes, and different gases engulfing the air. I remember a feeling like I was just about to die. And that's when they injected us with the serum. 'The Soldier Serum' they called it, some kind of chemical that allegdly gave some guy superhuman abilities in the 1940s. None of us really knew what was going on. And the girl..."

The Black Widow paused.

"She screamed, _and _screamed, the _whole_ way through it," she started in a louder voice. In a much more distant one.

"Calling out for her mother who was long dead; _begging_, _again and again_ for someone to save her."

And Barton didn't know what to say.

He didn't know if there was anything he could say that would ease the horror in her eyes.

"When they finally took her out, she was gone."

And the Widow didn't say anything after that.

Barton looked up from her wound, which was ready to be bandaged.

"How do you..." He shook his head. "Live with all that?"

She laughed, unenthusiastically.

"You've never done a bad thing in your life, have you?"

"I work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"A _really _bad thing?"

He looked down.

_Look at what she told you_, he thought to himself.

"My parents died in a car accident when I was four. My brother and I were in the car when it happened. My dad was completely drunk, and lost control. My brother pulled me out, as the window shattered. He pulled me out and saved me from the fire."

She looked at him, surprised.

"Why are you-" she started.

"Why did you?" he answered.

Then fixed his gaze towards the ground again.

"We lived in an orphanage for six years after that. The people there, well they were..."

He stopped, deciding on what he should say.

"They were people like my Dad was. A few hours down at the bar and... They got abusive. And suddenly everything was our fault. We were used to those kind of people, I guess. But there's only so much you can take," he said to her with a stiffness.

"We ran away. It seemed like the only thing to do. And clung to the first kind people we had ever known."

He laughed, but in a kind of a mournful way.

"A circus. 'The Carson Carnival of Travelling Wonders'. And we were happy there. Or at least as close to happy as we thought we'd ever come. Earning our keep by doing chores, and other things that no one else wanted to get stuck with."

And everything in his demeanour suddenly seemed to get darker.

"Then one day, the 'Swordsman', a popular performer there, wanted me to do a feature in his act. He needed someone small, and well, I was only ten at the time. After asking me to preform with him on more than one occasion, he took an apparent liking to me, and taught me his craft: fencing. But especially archery. I followed him around, he was the only father I'd ever had. The only person to take a special interest in me."

He then turned to the Black Widow.

"You can understand that, right? Wanting something more."

She nodded after a moment, intensely focused on what he was saying. And somehow he found it fairly easy to tell her, which seemed strange, because even S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't know the whole story.

"But my brother, he didn't like that. Barney got jealous. So when I discovered the Swordsman's embezzlement scheme, and he asked me to come with him, it took all I had to say no. He had apparently been planning something for a while, training young boys like me to help him with whatever he wanted. Boys that he could turn into soldiers. But Barney, he'd never had anyone except me, he'd never had someone to look after him. He jumped at the chance to go away with the Swordsman, and that's exactly what happened."

_C'mon_, he told himself.

"The next time I saw my brother he was dead. And I was seventeen."

_C'mon!_

"The Swordsman and his allies had murdered him when he had tried to leave. He was only nineteen. And he was my brother, y'know?

He swallowed.

"My big brother, who had protected me, as long as I can remember. And I couldn't see past that. I couldn't for years. He was the only thing I had left. And they had taken him away from me."

He paused for several moments.

"What did you do?" she asked him gently.

"I did anything I could," he told her.

"I tracked down the Swordsman and his gang, and I killed them one by one. I killed everyone there, no matter who or what they were. There were poor boys like Barney with him, probably boys with similar stories. Boys younger than me and I killed them too."

He shook his head.

"And I was so _angry._ I stole for years after that, still hurting people when they got in my way. And when S.H.I.E.L.D. heard about me, and what I could do with a bow, they offered me a home, and a job," he told her solemnly.

"And a cause," he added. "They offered me a way out."

And there was silence for a while. And no joking for once.

"You're one of the lucky ones then," she told him with a smile, one that just lit up with sadness.

* * *

**Author's Note: Second last chapter, or thereabouts, I won't exclude the possibility of there being a chapter six. But either way this has gone way too fast! Thank you so much to all the people who have favorited/followed this story, it's been so enjoyable to write, and great experience. If anyone has any suggestions about anything they'd like to see before the story ends, or any opinions they have about it so far, I'd love to hear them! And a very special thank you to all my lovely reviewers:**

**AthenaMay24: All the backstory in this chapter was definitely a lot of fun to write, and I hope I didn't disappoint with any of it! There should also be a little more about Natasha in the next chapter. Thank you so much, that's an incredibly important aspect of this for me. She is absolutely obsession worthy, and I can't wait for her actual backstory in Avengers: Age of Ultron.**

**Widow306: That's especially pleasing to hear, sometimes I doubt myself with various chapters, so I'm glad you feel there's at least some consistency in this! I hope this chapter was up to standards. Thank you so much!**

**This is the second last chapter approximately, so make sure to review!**

**Imagine88 :)**


	5. Chapter 5: Love is for Children

"_**It's like Budapest all over again."**_

"_**You and I remember Budapest very differently."**_

** (Clint and Natasha: Avengers)**

* * *

He looked up at her suddenly.

Looked at this lost and damaged creature.

She held his gaze, curiously.

"Why did you leave?" he asked her quietly.

She snorted. And bit her bottom lip.

"I never had any delusions," she told him, shaking her head. "I always knew what I was doing wasn't _right. _And I always knew that the decisions I made, that the path I took, weren't entirely of my making."

"The Red Room facility rendered its subjects highly suggestible," he added.

"It was more than that though," she told him. "No matter what your brother did, no matter what you heard about him, you would never stop... _loving him_," she said with some regret. "Would you?"

"Never," he agreed.

"And that was my downfall," she told him, in a steady voice. "That's why I don't have any friends, Agent Barton. Because love is for children. And I can't afford to be who I was."

He nodded. And could somehow understand.

"But like you said, there's only so much you can take. The Red Room, and all my training had left me with a very _specific_ set of skills. So I went freelance," she explained.

"But you still..." he asked, trying to find the right words.

"Kill?" she questioned casually. Almost smiling.

He nodded.

She laughed.

"As much as you want to believe, Agent Barton, that I'm something to be saved; there's no redemption for me," she told him, leaning closer. As if she was explaining something to a child.

"You think that you have blood on your hands, _sweetheart_?" And she smiled again, shaking her head. "You don't know the half of it!" she sneered.

"I know what it's like to be alone," he said, sincerely.

She felt like laughing at him, joking, doing whatever she could do to make his remark seem less genuine and meaningful to her, but all she could do was stare.

"I'm going to get some bandages," he told her, pulling himself back to a standing position, before making his way to the bathroom.

"So that's why the KGB came after you. You, and the other Red Room subjects, were supposed to be its future," he stated, walking into the main room again.

She nodded.

And he bent down, and lifted her up slightly. Overlapping layers of bandages round her middle.

"And when I found you at that party-" he started.

"It was just another job," she told him simply. "Nothing more."

"And there's one last thing I have to ask you," he explained.

"Yeah?"

"Why Black Widow?"

And they both laughed. Happily, this time. Although neither knew why.

"Because I have a theory of my own," he added playfully.

"Let's hear it then," she coaxed him, smiling.

"Well you're obviously a real femme fatale," he teased.

And she smiled a little more.

"And clearly very intimadating to men. I mean, you caught me, look at all the precautions I had to take back at the warehouse."

She found herself laughing again, although she almost felt like her eyes were-

"So I'm guessing something along the lines of, I eat my male partners once I breed with them," he chuckled.

And then they were both smiling again.

"Not exactly, I have to admit," she told him, playing along. "But definitely an interesting idea."

"Well determined and brave, I've already got drilled into my brain for sure," he added.

And suddenly there was a moment where they both were looking at each other and-

"I'm going to go and wash this in the sink," he said awkwardly, grabbing the wash cloth from the table beside the sofa. And started walking towards the hall.

"Wait, Barton." she said, turning to face him as best she could from the sofa.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Thank you."

And he turned to her.

"For everything."

He nodded, and smiled.

...And felt something else, but she gave him one more look and turned away.

He walked into the bathroom, grinning like an idiot.

And he actually started humming.

_What an idiot! _he thought to himself.

He turned the tap on, pulling the blue fabric under its spray.

Then suddenly he heard gasping in the main room.

_There's got to be some pain killers here_, he thought to himself.

And when the cloth was blood free, he placed it on the edge of the sink to dry.

He headed to the other side of the room, the cupboard was there, and he wanted to try and find some kind of medicine, since the pain from a wound the size of hers must be absolutely unimaginable.

And there was a window above the cupboard.

He was still humming when he saw it, the car that S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him parked right outside.

It didn't bother him much at first...

And that's when he realised-

Who would have his car, if he had left it at the warehouse?

"Natalia!" he screamed, racing down the hallway.

And there she was-

Keeled over, whining-

With a gun at her head-

In the arms of the grinning man.

"Barton!" he grinned, removing his hand from the Black Widow's mouth.

And she immediately started to struggle against him.

"глупая маленькая сука!" he shouted and pulled her back, but she bit his arm hard.

"Черт возьми!" he yelled, yanking in back, as she slipped out of his arms and onto the ground.

Barton made a move towards her.

"Stop!" said the grinning man, still smiling as he pointed his gun at Barton.

And Clint immediately pulled his out too.

"It's no use," she panted on the ground.

He turned to her.

And the grinning man's smile seemed to get alarmingly wider.

"His pocket," she added, gesturing to the other man.

And he slowly pulled out a metal flashing thing from the pocket of his trousers.

"A bomb," Barton stated, and his heart started pounding.

"That's right," the grinning man concurred. "It seems like she was right all along." And he looked down at the Widow, pouting his lips and frowning fakely. Then fixed his gaze on Barton.

"You," he pointed, sniggering. "You _are_ just a stupid fool who is of no harm to anyone. But you can escape all this," he said with his hands in the air.

"I've called your masters, Agent Barton. And S.H.I.E.L.D. are on their way. Now all you have to do is leave."

"It's that simple?" Barton asked.

"It's that simple."

Black Widow coughed. "Go," she spluttered, her head lowered to the ground.

_Boom_, his heart raced.

"This bomb is on a timer you know," the grinning man chimed.

_Boom._

"And it's not going to wait, Agent Barton."

_Boom._

"Go!" the Black Widow shouted, her voice hoarse.

_Boom._

"_I read people. That's my job."_

"_Need a little help, Agent Barton?"_

"_You're one of the lucky ones then." _

"_Thank you." _

"_For everything."_

"No," he said, making his way over to her and-

BOOM!

...And there was nothing left but ash and dust, and three bleeding bodies.

When Black Widow awoke she found herself lying in a bed.

The general clutter of hospital noise surrounding her.

She forced herself up, and she gasped, and it hurt like hell. But not nearly as much as it had before...

As it had before...

"Miss, Romanoff, you're awake," a cheery voice declared, as a nurse came through the door of her room.

The nurse smiled.

"There's actually a gentleman here to see you," she explained.

And that's when the Widow noticed a big bouquet of flowers on the bedside table, and a card that when examined, spelt out the name: S.H.I.E.L.D. in shiny silver lettering. And underneath was written: _Tough girl_.

The Black Widow shook her head, the smile on her face untouchable.

"Will I send him in?" the nurse asked her.

"Definitely," she said, still twirling the card in her hand.

"You can come in now," the nurse gestured to the figure outside.

And then another pair of footsteps made their way into the room.

"You know, Clint," the Widow began, her face still buried in the piece of card. "I think you and I really need to talk about-"

"Natalia," the voice interrupted.

And the Widow immediately looked up to find someone completely unexpected standing there in front of her.

"I'll leave you two alone then," the nurse added cheerily before exiting the room.

"I'm Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D." the man told her.

"Well you're obviously not here to kill me, Mr Fury. So what do you want?"

"Barton didn't tell me you were so straight forward."

"I'm sure there's very few things that Barton didn't tell you," she said, a little remorsefully.

"Not true," he told her.

"But the question is, what are you _willing_ to do?" he asked, looking right at her.

She was confused.

"For some reason Barton has been following me around for the past twenty four hours, like a little lost puppy dog. _Convinced_," he added. "That you can be an asset."

"Work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" she questioned, trying to hide how much she was smiling on the inside.

"He threatened to resign if I didn't at least try to recruit you."

_Always the humanitarian_, she thought fondly to herself.

"We can't afford to keep you alive, Natalia. But we really can't afford to lose _him_."

"I think you'd be a respectable boss," she added saucily.

"And I think you'd be a whole lot more 'respectable', if you refrained from calling me a pirate."

"I think I could do that."

"Good," he nodded. "Then consider your Red Room files as good as buried."

"Or as good as on your personal database," she corrected.

"Exactly," he smiled.

"And the people who are after me now?"

"I know I'm going to regret this," he sighed. "S.H.I.E.L.D. will provide you with complete protection from your past. Your new name is Natasha Romanoff."

"I'm Russian, not related to the czar."

"Oh don't ask me, the name was Barton's idea," he said, shaking his head.

"You'll be required to start as soon as you're recovered. I have a mission for you two in Budapest."

* * *

**Author's Note: So that's it! I'm not feeling nostalgic already... I just wanted to say how whole heartedly grateful I am for all of you guys' support, and to all the people who have favorited/followed this story my deepest thanks. Clintasha/Black Hawk is a great ship, and I hope I've done it justice. I am seriously considering more adventures with both Natasha and Clint in my near future! And a very special thank you to two very inspirational people:**

**AthenaMay24: It actually scared me also when I realised how close to finished this was! Everything that you've said in reviews, has been utterly moving, and what a relief it is that I didn't disappoint! Some days I just cry at how much I want to see it! Yes, I'm dying to get The Winter Soldier on DVD! At first I found it pretty depressing with all the possible Steve/Natasha romance going on, but oh that necklace! *Gasp* It's a great movie though. I honestly just wrote it so that I could survive, but I can't tell you how happy I am that you've enjoyed it too! Thank you so much! *Grovels***

**Widow306: Wow... Just wow... I'm astounded at that... Thank you SO, SO much! Join the club of people fainting in the cinema! The backstory is definitely something that really got me excited (hence this story) but like you, I think that Clint has his own tale, something I really hope they'll include! And any previous meetings between them would just be pure gold! I put my trust in the great Joss Whedon. It's completely inspiring to hear you say that, and it's absolutely a thing I'm considering! Thank you from the bottom of my heart! *Grovels***

**I am a big fan of both of you for being my motivation. You've had more than a hand in this story.**

**If you have any thoughts or opinions about the last chapter, I'd love, love, love to hear them! Hopefully I'll see you guys soon!**

**Imagine88 :)**


	6. Concerning the Sequel:

**Author's Note: Thanks to all the encouragement about doing a sequel, one is now in existence: The Black Widow's Venom. It explores Natasha's past in greater detail, and obviously has lots more Clintasha!**

_**Go seek it out on my profile page!**_

**I remain exceedingly grateful to all of my readers/followers, and people who have favorited this story**

**UPDATE: I've had quite a few more followers since posting this author's note, so I hope I haven't confused anyone about where exactly the sequel is posted. Publishing the first bit here was probably a little misleading. So just for the record: _the sequel is posted as a separate story, The Hawk and His Prey is now completed._ I'm terribly sorry if this is just me being paranoid, I thought it would be best to clarify.**

**Imagine88. :)**


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